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As I flip around the DU dial tonight, I see some expressions of what I can only describe as...rage. Good. Anger. The healing continues apace. Me? I am just getting over the emotional lability with a fine overlay of psychological dissassociation stage.
Trauma. Always a barrel of laughs.
Sure, it's fine to be looking for new and creative ways to bite your face. It's appropriate at this stage. There is a Gordian Knot of emotions inside all of us and we have to find the one string that unties it for each of us. That's goddamned hard work too. In the midst of finding the coping mechanisms that will get us beyond, we have to go to work or school and deal with the drooling mouthbreathers who feel that winning an election gives them some unalienable right to get all up in our asses. We have to keep those jobs too. Killing folks just doesn't look real good on your employment records.
Not fun. Rather frustrating. Tends to leave one's ass a bit chapped. Chronically.
Then I see people lashing out here, at each other. Even notter good. Look guys, right now, it's us. We seem to be at the nexis of something that is fighting for some very special things. Sure, we all fight in our own way. The BBV folks with their data collection, Will with his smart ass and smarter words, Pete with his words of encouragement that spring from an eldritch political universe that I can hardly imagine(And those words, I suspect, are not without some veiled meaning for those with the eyes to see...I would die to just touch his Rolodex). There is even that guy Keith. He excites electrons for a living. He's done his part too. Some of us might not be able to contribute as fully as we wish. You see, we have lives, jobs, families, bills, more bills and then there are those bills. And thats frustrating. We all want to take up the Sword of Truth. Each in his or her own way and according to his or her means.
It's only been a week. Seven short days. Hard to believe. Seems like a millenium has already passed. Or two. Ahead lies the yawning chasm of the unknown. We think we know what that pack of pirates, thieves and sociopaths have in store. That sure is scary. And we want Santa, goddamnit, and we want his ass NOW and that goddamned bag BETTER be full! It's a dilemma.
But at this time, it is really, really unwise to go eating our own. What we know is not about to explode onto the big screen or little screen in time to give us what we want most: gratification so immediate that it bends space and time, returning us to last Tuesday, where we are able to change the outcome. That's makes good Sci-Fi or bad ST:TOS but that's why that stuff Ain't Real Life.
Let's look a little at where we are now: After The Great Insult, Intrepid Researchers and Terminal Skeptics took a look at what had happened and asked, quite appropriately:
What. The. Fuck. ?
Certainly one of the top 5 questions one must ask on the way to solving some of the thornier questions of existence, on the road to true enlightenment.
Good folks and true are out there right now, sleep-deprived, food-deprived, money-deprived, family-deprived...and they are soldiering mightily. Look. Look dispassionately at what they have done. In seven days, this story is well on its way to becoming just as big as we have hoped. It is getting TV, radio and international play. Print media? Eventually, I reckon. It will play in the majors, and not just to be dismissed.
It does have legs.
You see, the architects of this little mess were most likely the ones who did their research and development work in Florida 2000. In their hubris, they seemed to miss a few points. One of the points is that we had 4 years to learn, a bit, from that imbroglio and develop the framework of this growing infrastructure that has driuen this story this far, with places like DU, but not only DU. Is it perfect? Far from it. But it is up, growing and making noises that cannot be dismissed. James Dobson is an chump in comparison. It took that jamoke 30 years.
We developed a real framework of good minds by leveraging the internet. And we are using Internet Time.
That was their grave tactical error, for whatever happens, I predict that they will never, ever, be able to do what they have done again. You can bank that. We now know and they know we know. They won't be able to play that game again. That train is a'comin'.
So sit down. Breathe. Slowly and deeply. Have a frosty adult beverage. Calm the fuck down. Stop savaging each other and everything that moves or does not give you that Red Ryder BB Gun immediately. We're gonna make something happen here. It has mass and speed and that means inertia. It may not be exactly what we want, right now, but it will turn out to be A Good Thing. Overall.
We know. They know we know. People are finding out. That's pretty good for seven days.
We'll shake the pillars of heaven. Don't you fret.
But it's gonna take some time. And patience. And gut-busting work. And maybe some better prayers than the pirates use. At least more sincere. That couldn't hurt none either.
In the midst of this, we gotta rebuild and fortify a party, too. Eek.
Can I get a "hell yeah"? ;-)
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